The Art of Manipulation
by kitsuneronbun
Summary: An angel and demon set their sights on an artist in favor of both Heaven and Hell. A struggle for her soul ensues; and yet, just who is really manipulating who? A/C.


Disclaimer: Good Omens and its characters are not mine. I only have Sophia, who, I will be very careful in dealing with had she been real.  
Author's Note: Please review! It's a good part in what keeps me writing.

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**THE ART OF MANIPULATION**

_"... to have someone do something you desire because they think it is their own..."_

_*******  
_

"When rendering the human body, we are not merely copying a torso, or limbs or a head. We are painting musculature and bone structure, how skin wraps this form and how light plays upon the most minute of curves and sinew. When rendering the human body, above all, we are striving to capture an essence all artists throughout history have attempted to capture in their work."

A young woman paused, and gestured to a female nude model posed on a dais.

"Please keep this in mind as we begin our module on the human nude tonight." she paused and met the eyes of the students surrounding her and the model, sitting rapt in attention at their easels and drawing boards. "Our model for tonight is Lila, and I'm hoping we can work on at least a couple of poses in the next 4 hours. Please, if there are any questions of difficulties, I'm here to guide you along."

The woman smiled, tucked wisps of long black bangs behind her left ear and clasped her hands together. "Lila will be taking 5 minute breaks every half hour. So let us begin."

The class began moving then, students pulling out materials or shifting about to capture their preferred angles, some getting up to grab some coffee at the refreshments counter.

Aziraphale's lips were pursed in concentration, eyeing his assortment of charcoals. Now which one do you start with again? Art had always been an interest of his, but it was quite different when you're participating with the art-making side of it. Sure he's sat in artisan workshops before, watched great artists make pieces which continue to endure through man's history, but it wasn't quite as methodical as he thought it would be; nothing like repairing a book or steeping a good cup of tea.

"A willow would be a good choice to start with."

The angel looked up and found the teacher smiling at him.

"Oh, thank you." he smiled gratefully. "I must say, I really don't know if I'll do well in your class at all."

There was short laugh, her voice deep and amused. "Well, its not a competition to begin with. Nor is it a graded activity of any sort. Just draw, don't analyze it so much."

Aziraphale studied the young woman before him for a moment; dark hair framed the left side of her tanned face, skin a warm brown revealing a bit of her heritage, average in height with a fairly attractive built, eyes a deep brown. She was definitely young, late 20's, the angel guessed, and knew was often mistaken as much younger, but none can deny how well she carried herself in the classroom and the art circles she frequented. The eyes, Aziraphale noted, watched him with an intensity he's encountered rarely among humans. They did not so much seem to see as to drink in the world before her.

He knew this was precisely why he was sent to watch this one. So much potential to go either way; a potential to contribute much Good or much Evil.

"I know, I know. It's just hard to, Ms. Sofia, with my background and all."

"Please, just call me Sofia, Mr. Fell." she said and picked up a long thin piece of porous charcoal and broke off a section. Sofia handed it to Aziraphale, "Start off by working out your proportions just like we did during the introductory module, then treat the body as a set of simplified shapes." Sofia gave him a pat on the shoulder before moving on to another student.

Aziraphale nodded, and proceded to do just that, letting his mind wander while his hands did the work. He's been attending her classes for some time now, and was quite proud of the fact that he's actually acquired some skill in drawing while he's been under her tutelage. He would actually go so far as to say that he was actually enjoying this assignment, as it entailed nothing more than to 'watch' and guide the young woman's potentiality to the side of good. It's been a long time since he's focused his energies on an individual; probably because there simply were more humans to influence now than the centuries past, or probably because its been a long time since Heaven spotted any humans worth the trouble. Aziraphale suspected it was the latter though, knowing just what kind of potentiality Sofia held.

An up-and-coming young artist in London's art scene, her works have taken the great interest of many influential critics and curators as well as an impressive number of collectors in the short couple of years she's appeared on the scene. Her subject matter at the moment was benign; though it had begun to shape many viewers perceptions on the world. The angel has seen her work, and it was no more impressive than many artists before her, but it was different in the sense that for some reason, her art left a lasting impression on whomever saw it. Lasting enough that it carried over into their lives and ideals, trickling into their relationships, friends and family. Aziraphale could see the power of this; how a single artwork affecting enough good (or bad) changes to shape a society.

This ability to mold things brought Sofia Vasquez to the attention of Heaven. That, and the fact that she also happened to be a prolific art teacher - able to spread her personal point of view on a more powerful platform than she could ever fathom.

Aziraphale's charcoal stick broke, abruptly stopping his progress, and the angel surveyed his work. Not bad, he told himself, and got up to fetch some tea. The refreshments table spewed out horrible stuff, but that has never stopped an angel into willing it into some fine Earl Grey. He'd of course informed Crowley of this current assignment of his as per their Arrangement, and the demon had listened and said; 'Artists are nuts, Aziraphale. Their minds are somewhere between here and there, or just scattered everywhere. Nuts. You remember how old Leonardo was.' He had nodded then, content with the knowledge that at least he wouldn't have to deal with the demon in taking this one. Unlike that wretched battle of wills in 1547 when they both sought to influence good old Ivan IV but the chap did what he wanted anyway and married 4 girls in succession.

The angel watched with bemused interest as Sofia talked with another student, one whom Aziraphale remembered as the daughter of some cosmetics mogul. Sofia was telling the young woman who was probably of the same age what she personally thought about billboard ads featuring manufactured beauties. Aziraphale could already feel the positive effects trickling over to the following months, noting pleasurably that it didn't even need his intervention to occur.

It was a few hours later when Aziraphale pushed open the doors of his bookshop and bustled in with his portfolio and bag of materials. The Bentley was parked in front and the angel wondered what the demon was doing so late in his shop. He propped the portfolio next to his counter, and laid down the bag before hurrying into his kitchenette. On the way, he noticed a faint snoring and Aziraphale peered into his backroom to find Crowley asleep in one of his armchairs, legs propped up on the table. The angel smirked, seeing that the demon had helped himself to some of his wine stash. He continued on to his old stove and he heard the demon stir.

"About time you got back."

"Its pretty late Crowley, would you mind telling me why you're here?" Aziraphale called back as he placed a small kettle on to boil.

Crowley's steps could be heard from the back room and he emerged at the doorway; he crossed his arms. "You didn't tell me the exact nature of this new assignment of yours."

The angel raised an eyebrow, "I did, my dear. Theres an artist Heaven has its eyes on, and I'm there to see her along the way."

The demon stared pointedly at his counterpart behind sunglasses, "You didn't tell me that she's shown potentiality for our side as well."

"Well..." Aziraphale gestured in the air, "I didn't really realize that until lately."

"Sure." Crowley gave a small smile which the angel knew meant that he wasn't really buying it. "Anyway, I'm here to tell you that she should be fair game now. Hell wants her, they called it in today."

"Now thats not fair Crowley, we saw her first." Aziraphale picked up the teapot, steeped a couple of tea bags and poured himself a cup. "Don't be greedy, Heaven could use a few more artists."

Crowley laughed, "They're deviant thinkers, the lot of them are. Why do you think we got most of them? Artists aren't that much different from composers if you think about it."

"Anyway," Aziraphale said meaningfully, "We saw her first. But I am quite confident that I can sway her to our side even if you try." He wondered briefly if the demon subtly manipulated the conversation leading up to this.

"Is that a challenge now?"

"Only if you consider it as such." was the curt reply and Aziraphale regretted saying it as soon as it left his mouth. Now Crowley would surely pursue his quarry.

Crowley responded with a devilish smile, the angel was so predictable. "A challenge then." He adjusted his sunglasses and made to leave the amazed angel. "Sofia Vasquez will someday be joining her peers in Hell, guaranteed." he called

Aziraphale's gaze followed him out and muttered to himself, "Not if I can't help it."

*******

The games for Sofia's fate began soon after that night, the artist none-the-wiser, the angel and demon locked in a virtual wrestling match of their own devising. If they were both going to be honest with themselves, the whole project was quickly degenerating from a pursuit in Sophia's salvation or damnation, into their own personal pursuits to be the better tempter/thwarter.

Aziraphale dutifully attended his classes, but this time paying more attention to chat up the hapless teacher. He began to talk ardently about politics and a world view, religion, culture; subjects that would barely be called small talk but nonetheless taken up with great interest by Sofia. The angel learned quickly that she was well educated, and had many quirky - and rather damning - beliefs that was beginning to manifest in her work. It gave the angel slight alarm.

Crowley, on the other hand, appeared at exhibitions and the artist's local hangouts, introducing himself as a wealthy art collector and enthusiast, worming his way into Sofia's routine. The demon learned that she liked peculiar things, but no real propensity towards deviance as far as Crowley could tell. She actually had a propensity towards charity. It gave the demon something to worry about.

Meanwhile, Sofia didn't really notice anything amiss, and proceeded with her life as usual. She was busy preparing for her next one-woman show, and nothing could possibly distract her from it. Only teaching and the occasional bouts of procrastination pried her away from painting.

This battle of wills was heated and competitive, distracting the immortal beings from their usual routines and other responsibilities. One would not allow himself to admit defeat to the other; and the angel was beginning to suspect that his opponent was considering stooping to more devious means. This was a suspicion which was entirely understandable since - notwithstanding the fact that Crowley is a demon and was naturally devious - Aziraphale has known his counterpart for thousands of years and could almost predict what the demon would do next.

Thusly, when Aziraphale looked up from his drawing board just in time to see Crowley saunter into their classroom in nothing more than a robe the following class, he had to employ all powers of restraint not to roll his angelic eyes. Not only was the demon willing to model nude, his usual sunglasses were gone and the yellow eyes disguised by a pair of very human brown irises. Crowley was certainly pulling out all the stops .

"Everyone, we'll begin in 5 minutes. Our model tonight is Anthony, who has very graciously volunteered for the task." Sofia said as she clapped her hands for everyone's attention. "Today, we get an opportunity to study the male nude, in contrast to the female body. Try to focus on the difference in gesture, proportion and musculature."

Crowley caught Aziraphale's eye and smiled impishly as the angel glared back. The demon couldn't see why Aziraphale would be upset, its not like this is the first time he's posed for an artist (or a whole group of them as is the case at the moment), and Crowley recalled a few times the angel had done so too without disapproval. Evidences of that would easily be found in several esteemed museums around the world.

It is art after all.

When everyone was set, and Sofia indicated that they were to begin, paintbrushes and pencils began to move in unison, save for one. Aziraphale dithered as inconspicuously as he can, sharpening his pencils with forced concentration. It certainly didn't help that Crowley chose to face in his direction, displaying proudly just how anatomically correct his human body was. Its not that he's never seen any man naked before, its just that... this was Crowley. And well - Aziraphale furrowed his brow - now why indeed was he being so flustered about this?

"Mr. Fell? Are you alright?" Sofia asked coming up to the angel busying himself.

Aziraphale looked away, like a kid caught trying to weasel out of something. "Or course I am. I just... can't find my glasses."

Sofia reached over and plucked the glasses hanging from his front shirt pocket. She smiled as she handed it to her student. "Mr. Fell, if I didn't know better, you seem uncomfortable with our model today."

"Er..."

She watched him put on his glasses and pulled up her own sketchpad and pencil. "Here," Sofia said placing the sketchpad on Aziraphale's drawing board for a moment, "The trick really, is that no matter how much the male body is different from the female body, it must be approached in exactly the same way."

Aziraphale nodded and put on his glasses in the hope that her short demonstration would provide a distraction from the demon who looked like he was enjoying the angel's discomfort from a distance.

Sofia began sketching slowly, plotting out points and references, lines of action. "Observe how his head rests on square shoulders. They are lean and allows our eyes to taper down his chest to the waist. Men generally have triangularly shaped bodies, the shoulder broad and wider than the hip." She drew in the general shape of the demon effortlessly as Aziraphale watched on.

"See where Anthony's upper torso meets his hip Mr. Fell, at the apex of his legs?"

The angel nodded weakly, trying not to train his eyes on certain areas of the demon's pelvis Sofia seemed to have no trouble ignoring.

She gestured with her arm in the general area, while her right hand continued to sketch. "If you observe closely, how the pelvis swings slightly to the right as he rests his weight on the opposite leg, it forms a very slight curve to the pose. Anthony's legs are long, and well-built, so we must try and draw it with a strong gestural line to show this quality. Although we can only see a portion of his glutes, Mr. Fell, it is also necessary to give your viewer an inkling of this form."

Sofia completed the quick sketch with an addition of pertinent anatomical details Aziraphale never thought he would feel so embarassed about. "See? Nothing to it." She gave the angel a reassuring smile, perfected over years of teaching, and gave him a pat on the arm. In these moments, Aziraphale forgets just how young she really is.

"All you need to do really is look at your model as closely as you can. See and observe his body as if you were studying a lover for the very first time." she said matter-of-factly and strode off with her sketchpad to another student.

Aziraphale could only nod at this, feeling his cheeks flushed with warmth, and he hurriedly picked up his charcoal lest Sofia return to give him a more in-depth description of Crowley's body. The angel began sketching, hands unsteady, unable to comprehend why he was suddenly feeling something very different about the demon in the pit of his stomach.

Crowley on the other hand, smiled wickedly in his head, enjoying every moment of Aziraphale's unease. He had been watching the angel since he's entered the classroom, paying virtually no attention to anyone else. It hadn't occurred to him before now - at least consciously anyway - how he liked watching Aziraphale's repertoire of emotions. How he liked watching those pale golden curls frame the face he's known since forever. How much he enjoyed just watching the angel and nothing else.

That last thought gave the demon pause; wait. He enjoyed watching Aziraphale? Crowley let his mind turn this over cautiously, this new awareness giving him an unidentifiable feeling. He was still mulling this over when a break was called and he hopped off the dais, robe in hand.

Sofia was waiting for him, and gave him a smile as he put on the robe. "I really must thank you Anthony for agreeing to this. I owe you for this definitely."

"It's nothing." Crowley said, "I used to model for a few artists before, and I always find it an interesting experience."

"Really? With whom?"

"Uh, they've retired since then." Crowley lied.

Sofia wrinkled her brow, "Thats a shame." She gestured towards a refreshments table, "Coffee?"

"No thanks." said the demon as he followed the artist. "How is your art coming along? I've been wondering what your show would be like."

She picked up a paper cup and poured herself some coffee and began spooning in powdered creamer and sugar in copious amounts. Crowley watched bemused. "Maybe one of these days you can visit my studio. Its hard to describe, I... I'm finding my work gravitating towards social issues. Issues you were telling me about at the pub."

"Ahh, very good. Sounds interesting Sofia." A bright smile of approval crept up on the demon's face.

" - and some things Mr. Fell and I have been discussing."

Crowley suddenly grunted in hidden disapproval, smile disappearing altogether.

The artist took a long sip from her saccharine coffee and seemed to be turning things in her head. Her eyes trained into a nonexistent spot in the distance, which both angel and demon have seen Sophia was oft to do. Then she suddenly turned to her impromptu model with a sly smile on her face. "Sometimes, I wonder if my ideas are my own you know? I always wonder if this world and the people I work with, talk with, are the ones actually shaping my own personal view. Then suddenly I'm thinking; have I been only manipulated into believing what I thought I came up with on my own? You know what I mean Anthony?"

The demon could only surpress a surprised half-cough half-choke as he listened. Perceptive bugger, she is. He was desperately trying to come up with a reply, and was relieved when she began talking again.

"Or no. Maybe I just think too much for my own good." Sophia gave a light laugh, and she gestured discreetly to a blonde man studiously editing and cleaning up his sketch. "Mr. Fell right there, I'll introduce you to him after class, he's got plenty of ideas about this world. I'm sure you'll find him very interesting to talk to."

Crowley raised a brow and tried his best to hide the amusement in his voice, "You think so?"

"Of course, he's quite shy at times, but I find his depth very endearing." She glanced at her watch and gave a clap with her hands, indicating that the break was over and the sketching will resume as soon as the model was back on the dais. Sophia gave a sideways look at Crowley, without any idea by any reach of her fantastic imagination how her words were affecting the demon. "Like I said, I'm sure you'll both find each other quite interesting."

"No, I don't think so." Crowley lied, as they walked back towards the center of the room.

"Oh shhh, I think you are Anthony." she gave him a mischievous smile, "If I didn't know any better, I think you already know Mr. Fell, judging by the way you've been watching him the past half hour. Either that, or you're already interested."

If Crowley wasn't a demon, he was sure he would have tripped as he made his way back onto the slightly raised stage out of sheer surprise.

Damn. Perceptive bugger indeed, he thought as he resumed his pose and the class got back to their artworks.

*******

It had been another week or so since that class, both immortal beings wondering privately if they've made any real progress with their target. 'Anthony' was introduced to 'Mr. Fell', they both feigned a 'new' friendship, and Sofia went about her merry way.

Crowley and Aziraphale have been sitting all afternoon at a cafe both would never have considered trying in the first place. It was a young-ish place with reasonably priced 'fusion' cuisine and no alchohol on the menu. The angel sipped at his tea and dunked biscuits, while Crowley drank his coffee black. They've been avoiding the whole topic of Project: Sophia the whole time, neither willing to concede anything to this battle of wills.

It was Aziraphale who spoke finally as he miracled away crumbs from his shirt. "I'm very pleased with Sophia's progress, she's painting family portraits. Family values and all that." he beamed.

Crowley looked up from his coffee, "Incestuous family values actually, I think." he gave a smile as the angel nearly choked on his tea. "Blurring societal norms, and expectations she said. She's also doing a few on blasphemous themes. "

The angel gave a smirk, this time with a rebuttle of his own. "Religion, my dear, she wants to espouse the importance of religion. Which is a good thing."

There was a short silence then Crowley sighed, unable to articulate how stumped he was actually feeling about the young woman. He was beginning to think that she was the one affecting them more than they were affecting her. The demon had only begun to admit to himself how he finds Aziraphale quite... attractive, after a few drinks with Sophia, who liked to talk about Mr. Fell's endearing qualities. Qualities which Crowley had always known, but never really noticed until someone pointed them out. He abruptly cleared his throat, mildly embarassed and somewhat taken aback by the direction his thoughts were taking him. Crowley sneaked a glance at his companion, and allowed his mind to see how the late afternoon sun made the angel's hair glow about him like a halo.

Aziraphale did not notice the glance, but was very much aware how close Crowley's hands were. He had been watching the long fingers for some time, seeing them with the new skill of seeing the way artists do; with an awareness of space and form, line. Aziraphale realized how elegant the demon's hands were, wondering what they might feel like in his own hands, and remembered conversations with Sophia about love and its many different forms. He had always thought that he was quite the authority on the subject; being an angel and all, but realized with the artist's own quirky reasoning that he didn't quite know everything about it. The angel stole a glance at Crowley's face.

"I'm really sorry I'm late guys." Sophia smiled apologetically at her two new friends, "I got a bit wrapped up with painting and I forgot the time, and well, my friend was calling if I could come get her out of this jam."

Both looked up to find the young woman standing by their table, and Aziraphale immediately got up to offer her his seat. She took it gratefully and the angel sat down at a chair to her right. "It's nothing Sophia. We rather enjoyed our chat while waiting for you."

The demon seated at her left gave a shrug.

A waiter came along with a menu and asked what she'd like to get. Sophia peered at the list.

"The tea is wonderful." Aziraphale suggested.  
"Coffee." Crowley interjected at the same time. Both glanced at each other and waited for her choice.

"Maybe just some orange juice for the meanwhile." Sophia said, her eyes glued on the menu choices. The waiter excused himself then and she glanced up to her companions. "Are you guys getting anything to eat? I'm afraid the only food I can offer you later at my studio are stale biscuits and instant coffee."

"Sure," Aziraphale said peering at the demon who seemed to be busy staring at a traffic officer circling his Bentley outside. The officer looked at his traffic log, baffled that the No Parking signs were nowhere to be found, then walked away scratching his head. Crowley turned back to his companions, giving Aziraphale a smug face. If it just wasn't such an undignified thing to do, Aziraphale in turn had the greatest urge to sneer back.

The waiter returned with Sophia's orange juice and looked at them expectantly for their food choices. Sophia, seemed to be completely unaware of the war for her soul, and sipped a bit at the juice. "Hmm, what do you guys think I should get?"

The two glanced at each other and aswered at the same time;

"Salmon." "Steak, rare."

Aziraphale gave the demon a dirty look and continued, "I'm sure their salmon with lemon and dill sauce is lovely."

Crowley lightly punched the angel's shoulder behind Sofia's back and ignored the surprised waiter and menu whose food offerings suddenly included the angel's and demon's chosen entrees. "Steak is real good for you. Protein."

Sophia pursed her lips in concentration, "The salmon does sound lovely." She looked up and addressed the waiter, "I'll have that."

Aziraphale gave a triumphant smile while Crowley gave a cough. "Good choice, its much healthier."

The demon shrugged, "Steak would have been much tastier."

"You both sound like my shoulder angel and demon." Sophia said laughing. She was met by a couple of surprised stares - or at least by one anyway, as the artist could only surmise that Anthony was also staring back behind his dark shades.

The angel and demon shrugged it off then in turn ordered their choices with Crowley asking for their best wine. Nobody noticed how a quaint cafe that never used to serve alchohol suddenly had a rather impressive stock or wines and spirits.

"Anyway," Sophia said after the waiter left, "I'm still looking for a couple of models for my next few pieces. I was hoping maybe you guys could help me out."

"Well, my dear, I haven't anyone to suggest. Maybe Anthony knows of a few friends willing to volunteer their services? " Aziraphale said, the name 'Anthony' rolling with unfamiliarity on his tongue.

The artist smiled, "Oh. Well, I kind of meant, Mr. Fell, if you both would be willing to model for me."

"Oh." Aziraphale fought his hardest not to blush.

Crowley smiled devilishly, "You know I don't mind. Fell, aren't you up to it?"

"Er... I'm not entirely sure if I am. My physique isn't what it used to be." Aziraphale said fully flushed now, unable to control the rush of blood to his neck and cheeks.

Sophia shook her head laughing, "Nonsense. You're hardly fat Mr. Fell, if thats what you're worried about. You're not even chubby. You're just uh..."

"Less toned." the demon said through a very, very amused smile.

"Yes! Or well, no. Okay yes." Sophia was laughing as she watched the fair-haired man's expression turning into exasperation.  
She gasped for breath and collected herself, "Anthony means well Mr. Fell. Anyway, I'm asking you both because I think your physical qualities are perfect for what I'm working on."

Aziraphale rubbed his temples with a hand, not knowing what to say.

Sophia continued, "I want contrasts. How sharpness meets softness, brutish meets delicacy."

It was the demon's turn to look concerned; Brutish?

"Light meets dark. And its not just the physical contrasts I'm after. I want to see and create internal contrasts, something which I feel from both of you. This feeling of how vastly different you are to each other, yet so unbelievably the same." Sophia explained, she was becoming more and more animated, eyes twinkling with that intensity Aziraphale always saw. "I realize, that you've only met through my class, and yet I always have this feeling that you both have some sort of connection with each other. A very deep connection. "

The two non-humans at the table looked at each other, like spies that have been caught at their game. The momentary glance sent both a warm feeling neither was yet prepared to acknowledge. After all, they've been friends - or well, enemies and then friends - for the longest time possible; they've shared and seen things many men would never see or comprehend; but just friends. Right? But what about those times when they've gone and did farther than ever expected of a friend? Risked life and limb, risked the wrath of Heaven and Hell for this one individual on this Earth. Was that just friendship, or was there more? Or rather, they both thought, the better question was; It is more, now what do you want to do about this?

Aziraphale and Crowley eyed each other nervously, wondering if their very world was coming undone, thanks to a diminutive young woman who's a mere tiny speck of an infant compared to their immortal lives.

The waiter came with their food, the angel and demon finding his appearance a most welcome diversion. Sophia's gaze watched her companions with sparkling interest as their orders filled the small table and wine was poured out.

"Please, I hope I'm not scaring you guys off of each other. It's just how I feel. Besides, I only want to capture this connection in my artworks, you guys can do whatever you want with it after." she winked and took a sip of her orange juice.

Aziraphale fidgeted and decided to train his eyes on his salmon for the moment, "I - I'll think about your proposition then, my dear girl. Though for now, lets enjoy the food."

"Sure." Sophia replied with a radiant smile, "I'll show you guys what I'm currently working on later, maybe then I can sway you Mr. Fell."

*******

The ride back from Sophia's studio was the most uncomfortable it had ever been, even more so than the first time Crowley had allowed anyone besides himself to sit in the Bentley. Neither wanted to speak, for fear of what words their mouths would utter; things they are not yet willing to admit to themselves much less to the other.

Crowley stole a glance at his companion, moonlight streaming in, giving Aziraphale's skin and hair a silvery tint. It reminded Crowley that right next to him was an angel, eternally pure and eternally beautiful. He admired his companion that way, silently sneaking glances, his eyes hidden. Over the last weeks, he's grown fonder of the angel, much more than the accumulated eons they've known each other. The demon had noticed with alarm how he began to see tiny things about Aziraphale that made him want to sigh, to suddenly grab the angel and close that invisible physical barrier between them. How he began to watch the hours or days before he would see his companion again, actually loooking forward to it. How aware he had become of every move Aziraphale made. Crowley knit his brows together, why hadn't he ever realized this before? Moreover, what does he do now with this lump in his heart? He had a very good suspicion of what it was but dared not identify it. Demons aren't supposed to be feeling things like this. Not especially for an angel.

'Not especially an angel', Aziraphale was thinking, chin cradled in his hand as he looked out the car window. 'Crowley would never want an angel. Not me.' He watched the demon's reflection sullenly on the window, turning his thoughts over and over in his head. No demon in his right mind, let alone right disposition, would ever have feelings for another. What more an angel? Crowley has always held a special place in his heart, and now, with Sophia's influence, Aziraphale was suddenly very aware how big that special spot had grown. The angel closed his eyes for a moment wistfully, how can he ever hope for the demon to want anything more from him than just 'friendship'?

They soon arrived in front of Aziraphale's bookshop, and Crowley was almost disappointed that the trip wasn't longer. He rather liked the angel's presence so near, and yet it maddened him not to be able to just reach over and touch him. They both sat there a moment, silently weighing what to say or not to say.

"I, I guess this is my stop." Aziraphale said with forced enthusiasm and opened the car door. "I'll see you tomorrow evening then?"

"7 o' clock?" Crowley nodded, the discomfort slowly easing away with the prospect of tomorrow - especially when Sophia had managed convince - manipulate - Aziraphale into posing for her. It needed only the use of minor guilt-tripping with a dash of puppy-dog eyes and some flattery to get the job done; a task so well executed any demon would have been beaming with pride.

"Er... yes." the angel replied with a small smile and swung a leg out.

"Oh wait, your portfolio." Crowley's hand shot out faster than he could tell it to stop and the demon found himself gripping tightly onto the angel's hand.

The world seemed to stop at that moment, angel and demon staring at their hands clasped, not knowing what to say or do, neither willing to let go but too afraid for it to linger. They stayed that way for but a few seconds, yet those seconds was enough to speak for centuries of emotions kept under lock and key, never daring til now to rattle their cage.

It was Aziraphale who pulled away first, eyes hidden, cheeks red. He dared not look at the demon, for fear his eyes told too much, and quickly took his portfolio. "Thank you. See you tomorrow."

Crowley fumbled a bit, unwilling to appear embarrassed; "Yeah." He watched the angel nod, step out and walk into his shop without looking back; the demon barely realizing that his heart was thumping loudly in his chest. Crowley silenced it with a thought but the feeling remained, as he drove off into the night.

Aziraphale watched the vintage car disappear as he peered out his window and sighed, clutching a hand to his chest.

*******

Sophia's studio flat was a study in organized chaos. Books and references were piled high everywhere, precariously balanced next to canvasses and paintings in progress or altogether halted; paints, brushes and palette knives littered her painting area, several easels stood around a small makeshift platform where a red divan was standing.

The artist led the unlikely pair to her studio area and pointed to a small green door, "Bathroom's there. So, um, anytime you guys are ready. I'll just find a fresh canvas and get some paints out." She smiled a moment and left Aziraphale and Crowley to fetch her things. The two watched her in amazement, plucking things out of the menagerie of materials and furniture with no trouble at all.

"Um, you could go first." Aziraphale said quietly, trying to hide just how nervous he was.

The demon flashed him a flirtatious smile, "Or we could get undressed together."

"Crowley!"

"What?" said Crowley feigning innnocence - which was about the equivalent of a cat looking up innocently to its master with a clutch of feathers in its mouth - "Doesn't make a difference anyway. We both end up naked."

Aziraphale squirmed a bit, "I'm having second thoughts about this. If say, maybe we could... negotiate Sophia's future in another manner altogether."

"Nonsense, are you telling me you're giving up trying to save the soul of dearest Sophia?"

"Of course not!"

"Then, " Crowley said carefully, calculatingly, "if you leave now, I'll for sure have won out this one. Can you imagine the sweet artist burning in hell for all eternity?"

Aziraphale shook his head and finally turned to the direction of the small bathroom. "Sometimes Crowley, I wonder why I even get into these things with you." , the angel mused.

Sophia returned and began to set up at an easel and pulled up a small table next to it. She had pulled up her black hair into a pony tail, and changed into a pair of worn denims patched with different colors.

When Aziraphale emerged from the bathroom in a terry cloth robe, clothes folded neatly in his arms, Sophia beamed. "Thank you so much for doing this Mr. Fell."

"Oh, its, its nothing my dear. Anything for your art."

Sophia nodded and watched Crowley take his turn to undress. "Still though, Mr. Fell. I owe you for this."

Aziraphale gave a small smile and found a clean spot to park his clothes. "I don't suppose I can still sway you into changing your mind about those er, 'family' scenes you've done."

"I am kind of thinking about them, I might do a few edits if I feel like it." was the thoughtful response, "Though, I guess, depending on how well this painting turns out tonight, I might scrap that series altogether."

The angel nodded, as Crowley reappeared in a towel. 'Great. No pressure there.' Aziraphale thought.

"So, lets get this party started." Crowley said, very much looking forward to having the angel in nothing but his birthday suit next to him. He only hoped that his body won't get too excited.

"Great!" Sophia clapped her hands together and gestured to the divan. "I just need you two to sit next to each other first."

Aziraphale gave a hesitant glance at his companion only to find Crowley throwing his towel aside as if it was the most natural thing in the world. He looked away quickly, and slowly took off his own robe to join the demon on the prepared seat, sitting gingerly.

Sophia then came up to direct them into a pose, carefully positioning them into a balanced composition; Aziraphale leaning back onto Crowley, an arm reaching up to hold 'possesively' (in her terms) while the demon's arms wrapped around the soft waist, their legs intertwined. The angel rested his fair head on the demon's chest, and watched distractedly as the artist skillfully covered - or rather just very barely covered - with drapery, sections of Aziraphale's anatomy and legs. He tried not to think of the parts of Crowley's nether regions that was currently pressed a little too close for comfort.

"Ace!" Sophia stepped back and gave a satisfied nod, very pleased with their position - if not the pose itself. Pose wasn't important right now, if she had any hope for her plan to work tonight. "Just let me know if you guys are cramping up or something, then we can take a break." She said and moved to begin sketching quickly. "Relax, Mr. Fell. Anthony doesn't bite - or at least, I don't think he does." There was a laugh behind the huge canvas.

"Don't worry, I'll try not to." Crowley said, whispering into Aziraphale's ear, sending shivers down the angelic spine.

Aziraphale wanted to give the demon a dirty look but didn't move. They stayed that way for about 10 minutes, watching Sophia poke out her head once in a while as she studied their forms; Crowley trying not too think how close they were to each other.

Trying not to think how wonderful the angel's hair smelled, how the soft body leaning on him molded so neatly against his. Trying not to think that with just the tiniest movement he can _touch_ Aziraphale. Trying very hard not to give in to temptation.

Now that was a thought, the demon smirked in his head. The angel was tempting him?

"Crowley?"

"Yeah?" he whispered back, shaken out of his reverie.

There was the slightest movement; "Could you please, erm, stop making such an... effort?"

A devilish smile crossed Crowley's face, "I can't help it." then after a thoughtful pause, he leaned just a bit closer, whispering into the angel's ear; "I won't make an effort for anyone else."

Aziraphale seemed to process the last statement for a while, a warm blush slowly creeping up his cheeks. "Don't... don't lie about these things Crowley." he whispered; heart thumping madly in his chest with the implications of what the demon had said, and the maddening thought that he might also be just toying with him. His heart wanted to sing and shatter at the same time.

"I've never lied to you angel."

"Oh yes you have. Too many times than I'd care to count. Like back in Milan -"

Crowley cut him off, "Well, I'm not lying to you now."

A small sound escaped Aziraphale's mouth, and he pouted in disbelief. "Right."

It was then that the demon did one of the most impulsive things in his life. He's done an innumerable many, and so to say it was among the most impulsive he ever had, was quite a feat in itself. He glanced momentarily at Sophia, her brush flew madly out of her hand and she quickly looked away to retrieve the tool at the far end of the studio where it seemed to have a life of its own. The moment her eyes left them, Crowley leaned down and closed that gap between him and the angel with a kiss in a second; breaking that invisible barrier between them forever.

Aziraphale's eye's widened at the sudden contact, red as a beet, as he realized what the demon was doing. He wanted to pull away but couldn't, limbs refusing to obey their master. He wanted to tell the demon to stop but wouldn't, because he really didn't want it to stop. The angel opened his mouth to Crowley's pressing tongue, gasping in ecstatic surprise at how deliciously... sinful it all was. He began to return the kiss in fervor, and trained an eye on the artist's back.

Sophia suddenly remembered something very very important outside her flat. She must go _now_.

Crowley smiled into Aziraphale's lips, seeing what the angel had done; Sophia grabbing her coat and keys without looking back, distractedly heading out the door. "I'll be right back guys. Sorry, emergency." she called.

She needn't had to say anything. The angel and demon were currently too busy rectifying centuries of denial between them.

"Crowley, please tell me this is more than lust." Aziraphale whispered as the demon rolled them over on the divan, pressing the angel's back into the soft couch as he gazed down with suddenly very golden eyes.

There was a smile, soft and playful, a smile which said nothing but truth in the demon's voice. "It is, angel." Crowley bent down to place a kiss on Aziraphale's lips, "It is." he repeated into the angel's mouth, then bent lower to nip and lick at Aziraphale's ear. He felt the body beneath him shiver in delight, arms coming up wrap themselves around his neck.

"Aziraphale?"

"Y-yes, my dear?" came the breathless reply, stuck between a moan and a cry.

"I want you to tell me that this is more than love."

The demon's eyes of amber met the angel's pale eyes. They were glistening with love, adoration and...

Crowley smiled in satisfaction.

"It is." Aziraphale replied, and pulled him closer. "It is."

*******

It was some hours later that Sophia returned to her studio, not really remembering why she had to visit a friend in the middle of the night for a box of sugar. It had seemed to be the most pressing need at the moment and she wondered if it were one of those serendipitous things that just happened to you when you least expected it. It turned out to be a good thing anyway, since her friend had been in the middle of a crisis herself - and had the artist failed to show up, her friend might well be in a hospital right now for a drug overdose.

Sophia stood outside her door for a while, turning her keys over in her pocket as she thought. Well, it all did kind of work out anyway, or so she hoped. She was planning on leaving the two earlier tonight on some excuse she's devised, hoping that the... alone time would be enough to give her the results she wanted.

Sugar box in hand, she slowly opened the door and crept in quietly to find her two models wrapped in each other's arms fast asleep, entangled in the most sensuous way possible. Sophia smiled, set down the sugar and keys on a pile of books and tiptoed over to her easel grabbing a fresh canvas on the way. She hurriedly pulled out the painting she had been working on and replaced it with the canvas in her hand. She peered over at the two, smiling in delight.

"I didn't know you had it in you Mr. Fell." she muttered under her breath and glanced at the dark haired man snuggled close to his lover. "Nor you Anthony."

Sophia worked quickly and silently, her muse very much alive that night. By daylight, she had nearly completed one of her fastest and most inspired artworks to date, and had shoved it discreetly at a far wall before either of the two first began to stir. She yawned and grabbed the box of sugar before heading out, planning to re-enter after thirty minutes. She guessed that that should be enough time for her models to sufficiently compose themselves and pretend to her nothing had ever happened.

She would be sure to invite them over for another sitting in a couple of days.

*******

A few months passed quietly and quickly; artist, angel and demon progressing wonderfully in their respective pursuits.

Aziraphale was very pleased that the artist scrapped her 'incest' series in light of her newfound subject matter. She seemed very much going in the direction that he wanted her to take, seeing that 'unconditional love' as the current thread of her paintings to be quite on the side of Good.

Crowley on the other hand, was not to pleased to find his endeavors in influencing Sophia's earlier work to be thrown aside. However, he was very enthused with the artist's bold and seductive style that pushed societal bounderies.

Both angel and demon were, if they were to admit it anyway, happier than they have ever been on this partly because the rivalry for Sophia's soul was forgotten and swept hastily under the rug after their first night together; mostly because of what they now had in each other.

It was finally that friday.

Sophia's exhibition opened with much critical acclaim. Imagery of an angel and demon wrapped in sensuous embrace both captivated and called controversy. If Aziraphale and Crowley could've jumped out of their skins when they first stepped into the gallery, they would've made a pair of man-shaped holes in the roof.

First of all, they never really saw what Sophia was working on; only vague and half-finished sketches or hastily painted canvasses of tableauxs they posed for - none of which were part of the exhibition. They were too busy manipulating the artist into leaving them at her studio and getting more and more acquainted with each other. How could they have guessed that this was exactly what she wanted?

Secondly, the liberal addition of wings and fang and otherwordly undertones was extremely perceptive or lucky of the artist. She got everything right, even up to her angel's unkempt feathers and her demon's golden eyes. It was literally, very disarming.

Finally, people stared and smiled knowingly at them as they tried picking up their respective jaws from the floor. Sophia was well-known for her skills in portraiture and this exhibition was no exception. Mr. Fell and Anthony, were unmistakably her models.

And, as with all art exhibitions, critics and collectors came and went, guests and social butterflies rubbed elbows in an effort to look and feel cultured, paintings were either reserved or sold and amidst it all; an angel and demon stood together as they should have always been. Hands secretly clasped in defiance of Heaven and Hell, a reflection of the artworks around them, pictures of how and what an unconditional love should be and yet ignited a lustful fire within its viewers.

It was all neither absolutely Good nor absolutely Evil.

Somewhere Above, Someone smiled; pleased that His plans followed through.

Somewhere Below, someone grinned; pleased that his plans followed through.

-


End file.
